A Beginning, of Sorts
by emptymatchbox
Summary: The Dodger has one more thing to do before making sure the police is of his tail. That is, for being Jack Dawkins, of course. / Or in which Jack Dawkins is from a wealithy family and writes a letter to his mother before continuing on. / First person.


_Dearest Mother:_

_Do not fret; I have made it to London without any major disruptions except a few, _

_._

My arrival in London was uneventful, and my brother and I gratefully hopped off the newly-opened train from Liverpool to London. I searched through the crowds for my mother's sister, brother clinging so tight that he could've torn my leg off. His eyes grew wide and he pointed in some odd direction, and he shouted, "Aunt Christie!" before darting off into the chaos. And that's how I lost my brother, Thomas Dawkins.

I was eight at the time but I still knew some colorful words from my father –Mother gave him a nasty look after he said them- but he was frustrated when he did and I am now, so I sputtered a few and dragged the three luggages- Thomas's, my own, and one full of extravagant gifts for my Aunt, as if we were to bribe her for taking us in.

Suddenly, I felt a small movement in my father's oversized coat which was mine now, and turned around quickly. I could've sworn I heard giggling behind me as I continued to search for my relatives.

I reached into the pocket and felt for the ring my father had given me. It was gone- vanished, as if it was its own self.

Or as if someone had stolen it.

.

_but fear not, I will not digress. I have even found a few boys to even help me with my move _

_._

I felt another movement in the opposite pocket, and this time I caught the pick-pocketing scoundrel by making grab at his thin wrist. He looked at me with a grin. "You're quick."

I didn't release him. "Really? Then- _will you quit it_?"

Two other boys who attempted to reach into my inner coat pockets quickly shrunk away by my request.

"Looking for a place to stay?" The first boy asked. I got a good look at him, noticing the major contrasts between him and me. He had sharp, foxlike eyes and a good-natured grin, but I was

"Well-" I hesitated, and gave a wide-swept glance over the station. My relatives were nowhere in sight. "Yes."

"Come with me?" He offered. "I know someone with a roof."

I raised an eyebrow, which disappeared in my also-oversized hat.

He sighed. "And warm food."

I was waiting for his offer rise. He sighed again. "And money?"

"Alright," I shrugged. He gave me a look of surprise.

"Really?" He didn't think I'd come so quickly.

"Why not?" I asked and gave him a sideways glance. "I've got nothing better to do."

.

_and besides the constant noise of London, my stay has been well. The city itself has grown on me, keeping me busy and alert, and I am afraid that I will not be able to visit in the due state of time we had originally planned. But do not fear, I will watch over my brother as you expect me to and not be the root of any distress my dearest Auntie Christie faces._

_._

"So where's yah family?" The boy asked, taking a luggage. We continued walking.

"Lost. Somewhere in the crowd."

He frowned, going a bit ways in front of me. My pace quickened. "And you don't want to go with them?" He asked.

"Do you want me to go with you?"

He shrugged, and this time, I was the one who sighed. "If you're not going to give me an answer, I'll report you."

"Alright, alright! It's just that Fagin already has enough boys during this season, and if you don't prove that you're quick-"

"I am quick!" I objected, "You said so yourself!"

"Well that's 'cause you caught me. Only the best do." He puffed his chest and I almost laughed. "But yah see, he needs proof."

"Well I guess I must not clever." I sighed. "I must be going. Thank you for giving me back my ring, though." I waved the ring he had stolen in his face, which I had quickly grabbed from his trouser pocket, and walked away a few steps.

"Wait!" He caught up to me with the same grin. "You little-"

I dropped one of my luggages to hold out my hand. "Jack Dawkins."

He grinned and shook it. "Master Charley Bates, at your service," he gave a quick comedic bow, "and my friend, I believe me might have a place for yah."

_._

_With that Mother, I am afraid I have to close. But we will see each other in due time, though it is quite a while away._

_Yours, Jack_

.

I heard the slightest sound of a foot pivoting on the unpolished wooden floor and turned, alert. Fagin peered over my shoulder, nodding approvingly. "I never knew you could so much as read, dearie, and write as well too," he praised, and I felt a stir of pride. "But of course, you will mail it somewhere else."

I nodded in affirmation, top hat covering my eyes. I pushed it up. "Yes, sir."

"And remind me why you are mailing this again?"

He knew but he wanted to make sure that I knew. I sighed and repeated myself again: "Because I am from a wealthier family, they might come looking for me." But they won't, and even if they did, I'd be faster. I'd weave myself into the crowd, dodging the police, becoming another boy in the streets.

The responsibility my mother exaggerated over my brother would be one thing I would be free of. Another would be my social status. I was a boy; I didn't want to busy myself in school, I wanted to run. Even at home was boring, with the same fluffed-up pillows and tasteless soup my mother provided.

I already had money, and I have proved myself to Fagin time and time again. It was a better life with him, even though we were cold and sometimes hungry, we had a decent amount of fun. After Fagin taught me how to make money, I became one of his best boys quickly, even above Bates.

That's why I chose to be with him.

* * *

><p><strong>I don't know why I posted this.<strong>

**I should have put Modern!speech and OOC!ness in the summary.**

**My writing's much better than is, I swear. Don't give up on me just yet.**

****I blame my English teacher.****

****-EM****


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